Pandora's Box (27 page)

Of course the screen immediately asked for a password.
 
She had no clue.
 
She tried several words with no results.
 
She typed in his daughter’s name, her father’s along with the other men in his power hungry group, and things that might be of interest to him.
 
The party raged on outside.
 
Music and laughter filtered in through the closed window.
 
Sounded like they were having fun.
 
Fine with her as long as it kept everyone busy.

Maybe she should forget the computer, search the desk instead.

“Are you looking for something in-particular?”
 
The deep voice came from the doorway.
 
“Maybe I can help you find it.”

Madison
’s eyes snapped up to find Rico Boracci.
  
He hadn’t changed much over the years.
 
With both Italian and Latin roots, he possessed the smoldering good looks and charisma that made most female hearts skip a beat.
 
Madison
wasn’t one of them.
 
Not just because he’d been called uncle either.
 
His movie star appearance chilled her.
 
Funny how time changed things.
 
As a child she hadn’t been able to smell the violence on him.

His smile didn’t reach the darkness of his eyes.
 
“Madison Grey, you have grown into such a lovely young woman.
 
Your father must have been proud.
 
Of course I’ve been expecting you.”

“You have?”

“My people told me you visited Grainger’s wife in the hospital.
 
You’ve also spoken to the man himself and to the president.
 
Sooner or later I knew you’d come to me.
 
You have questions about your father and about our collective pasts.”

Madison
didn’t know where to begin, so she decided to start with an accusation.
 
She wanted to catch him off guard with brutal honesty.
 
“I think you’re behind the assassination attempts on the president.
 
You have Grainger and his invention under lock and key.
 
I think you planted a microchip in my father to make him kill the president for you.”

Rico’s head went back, rocked by laughter.
 
“Wow,
Duncan
’s daughter has a wild imagination.
 
What in the world would make you think I was the one pulling the strings?
 
What would I have to gain?”

Good question.

He added, “I have everything I ever wanted: money, power, respect.
 
Killing Malcom Law wouldn’t add anything to it.
 
Of course I wouldn’t shed a tear if he died.
 
He’s an ungrateful piece of garbage.”

“What happened between the four of you?” she asked.

Rico shrugged.
 
“Long story.
 
Let us simply say that the four of us had an understanding in the beginning.
 
We all had a common goal.
 
Then two had a huge argument and the other two were forced to take sides.
 
End of story.”

She digested the information slowly, trying to read between the lines.
 
She got up from Rico’s desk and circled it to stand in front of him.
 
“Are you saying my father and Malcom Law had a falling out?
 
Were they the ones who fought?”

“What difference does it make now?”
 
Rico spread his hands, showed his palms in a gesture of futility.
 
“You father is dead.
 
Malcom won.
 
Grainger and I prefer to stay out of it.”

The mobster wasn’t going to let any vital information slip.
 
He hid behind a charismatic smile.
 
Her gaze dropped to the unconscious loser on the floor.
 

“Sorry about knocking your employee out, but he started it.
 
He used that stun gun on me in an airplane.
 
I don’t suppose you’d admit to ordering him to do it.”

Rico slowly shook his head.
 
His expression didn’t change as he said, “The idiot has been moonlighting.
 
Someone else gave him the order to go after you.
 
It wasn’t me.”

Someone like Roxie perhaps.

“Have you seen your daughter lately?” she asked.

Now his expression changed, tightened.
 
A muscle throbbed to life in his jaw and his lips compressed.
 
He was having trouble holding onto that phony smile.
 
He shook his head a bit harder this time.
 
No more words.
 

Madison
was dangerously close to believing him.
 
Maybe he and Roxie were on the outs.
 
Could be the daughter was the one running the show, and he obviously didn’t like it.

“May I see Uncle Eli before I go?”
 
She blinked at the mobster, trying hard to look disarming.
 

Rico leaned out the door into the hallway.
 
“Guard!” he shouted.
 
Two of them instantly filled the doorway.
 
Rico said, “Take Ms. Grey to the parlor and inform Grainger she’s waiting for him.”

She flashed him a grateful smile.
 
As she passed by Rico, she said, “Nice party.”
 

His hand shot out, grabbing her arm above the elbow, fingers tight.
 
She had to bite her tongue and clench her fists to keep from laying him out next to his moonlighting employee.
 
She glanced down at his hand.
 
There was a small ‘P’ tattoo between thumb and forefinger with a shock of lightning moving through it.

Her father had had the same mark on him.
 

“Next time you want to visit, use the gate.”
 
Rico released her arm and she followed the guards.
 
He yelled after her, “And call first!”

******

The parlor had been given the same treatment as Rico’s office.
 
She sat on the edge of the expensive leather couch and waited for Grainger.
 
Her muscles remained taut, ready for a fight.
 
She didn’t relax until Grainger entered the room.
 
Until she finally saw him with her own eyes she’d been afraid Boracci would double cross her.

She stood and walked across the polished hardwood floor to him.
 
After kissing him on the cheek, she asked the guard standing inside the room, “Can we have some privacy?”

The guard ignored her, staring straight ahead as if he hadn’t heard her.

“He won’t leave,” Grainger said.
 
“The guards have strict orders to keep an eye on me.
 
Rico is worried someone might try to harm me, and he’s vowed to keep me safe.”
 
Grainger took in her dress with a wry smile.
 
“You look festive.”

Her cheeks flushed.
 
“I had to blend in.”

“If you’d called, he would have let you inside.”
 
Grainger sat on the couch and gestured for her to join him, which she did.
 
“Rico is a good man.
 
If it wasn’t for him, I wouldn’t be alive.”

Madison
found that hard to believe.
 
Rico didn’t care about Grainger.
 
She’d be willing to put money on it.
 
Rico was using Grainger, and somehow she was going to prove it before the naïve scientist got hurt.
 
He was obviously an unwitting accomplice.

Surprisingly she was still fond of Grainger.
 
The more she talked to him, the more convinced she became that he was a good man caught up in a bad situation.
 
For sure she liked him a whole lot more than Rico.

“I need to speak to you about the microchip in my head.”
 
She took a deep breath and lied, thinking it would be best if Grainger didn’t know the whole truth.
 
Eyes lowered, she kept the part about killing DeMarco to herself.
 
“I’ve had two more black outs and I came close to hurting someone I deeply care for.
 
Now the last time I saw you, you told me the microchip could be deteriorating.”

“My dear, you don’t have a microchip.”

“But you said—.”

“You have three,” he said.
 
Grainger glanced around nervously.
 
He lowered his voice so the guard couldn’t easily hear.
 
“You received the first one when you were only four years old.
 
It was a simple one encoded with the suggestion that you make your bed every morning.
 
We needed to see if they worked on humans.”

“So you made me into your little guinea pig.”
 
She forced her anger down, not liking him as much as she had a moment ago.
 
“Go on.”

“The second was when you were six, after your mother’s suicide.
 
Your father didn’t want you to suffer with those memories, so he ordered me to take them away.
 
The last one came at the age of twelve.
 
You were all your father had left.
 
He wanted you to follow in his footsteps.
 
So we suggested you become an agent like your father.
 
We gave you the confidence and the ability to do the job well.”

Shocked,
Madison
felt the blood drain from her face.
 
How could her father do that to her?
 
She hadn’t known him at all.
 
He’d decided her future for her, taken her choices away.
 

“I’m sorry,” Grainger said, placing a hand on hers.
 
“I never had a child, but I’m sure your father thought he was doing what’s best for you.”

She turned away and blinked her eyes several times to force the tears back.
 
Her father had told her a thousand times not to trust anyone, but she hadn’t thought for a moment that he was included in that bold statement.
 
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
 
Because of her father, DeMarco was dead.
 

“Is there anything we can do about the microchips?” she asked.
 
“I can’t keep living like this.
 
I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
 
At least not anyone who didn’t deserve it.

The guard put a hand over one ear as if receiving a message over the ear piece inserted there.
 
He took a step forward and said, “Boss says I have to escort you off the premises now, Miss.
 
Dr. Grainger, you need to return to your lab.”

They both stood.
 
Grainger grabbed her hand, sandwiched it between both of his, and she felt a hard piece of folded paper with sharp edges poke the flesh of her palm.
 
He thanked her for coming, wished her a safe trip, but there was something in his eyes.
 
Was it fear?
 
Or desperation?

He left the room first.
 
Madison
followed the guard out of the house, down the gravel driveway, and out the gate.
 
The guard offered to ring a taxi for her.
 
She told him not to bother.
 
She already had transportation and a rental car waiting at the end of the street for her.

The gate closed, and the guard walked away.

Madison
looked down to see what Grainger had slipped her.
 
A torn and folded piece of phone book cover rested in her hand.
 
She opened it.
 
There were two words scrawled in black.
 
Help me.

******

Two hours later
Madison
paced the shabby motel room floor with aching tension in every bone, every muscle of her body.
 
How was she going to get Grainger off the mobster’s estate?
 
It would have been different if she had help, but she was totally on her own.
 
She couldn’t call the Secret Service, CIA, or any other branch of the government for help.
 

Screw it!
 
She grabbed her coat and headed for the door.
 
Before she reached it, it swung open to reveal a tight-lipped Tyler Law.
 
Oh why hadn’t she locked the door?

“What the hell are you doing here?”
 
She went on the defense in an instant.
 
“Were you following me again, you jerk?”

He slammed the door behind him.
 
“Are you on some sort of medication I don’t know about?”
 
He used his hands while he talked, violent gestures as if he wanted to strangle her on the spot.
 
“You’re hot.
 
You’re cold.
 
You’re working with me and then you’re running from me.
 
Make up your blasted mind, woman!”